


Dexter Grif; Hawaiian heart-throb

by MargoTheGreat



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Grif is actually very hot, Hawaiian Heart-throb, but not conventionally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:04:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargoTheGreat/pseuds/MargoTheGreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of reasons Simmons shouldn't like Grif.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dexter Grif; Hawaiian heart-throb

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was an unprompted original work. I just felt like it needed to go out into the world.

Dick Simmons should by no means have found Dexter Grif to be attractive.

He was constantly swearing, or shoving food into his mouth, or smoking. (Unfortunately for Simmons this only meant it drew more attention to his lips).

He was a slob, constantly leaving crumbs everywhere and laying around, too lazy to get up and actually do something for once, often in just boxers and a t-shirt. (Again, for Simmons this just meant witnessing something too domestic to ignore. Especially when less clothing was involved.)

He was such a sarcastic son of a bitch and it was plain as day on his face. Grif constantly seemed either bored or slightly amused. (Damn that smirk. Damn if it wasn’t the most attractive thing Simmons had ever seen. And the winking? Simmons didn’t even want to think about it.)

Grif was wayy too comfortable with Simmons, and Simmons was far too comfortable back. (They were constantly touching. Why? They touched when they were eating, when they were standing around, when they were talking, when they were sitting on the couch. They would pat each other on the back, touch each others shoulders when talking, cover each others eyes to win when playing video games, sit too close, Grif would throw an arm behind Simmons when they were sitting down, they would pretend to punch or slap each other, Grif even had a habit of ruffling Simmons’ hair. What the fuck was with all the touching? It was driving Simmons insane.)

He had terrible posture. (Too laid back, too confident.)

He pretended to be stupid to get out of work. (He was actually really fucking smart? And God knows how much Simmons values intelligence as an attractive trait.)

Sometimes looking at the scars all over his skin was a grim reminder of the hell they had been through. (But they’d been through it together and Simmons would never take it back. Grif didn’t even give a shit about his cyborg parts.)

He constantly bothered Simmons for being a kissass and a nerd. (But you know, it’s not like those were necessarily insults anymore. They couldn’t be when they were said with a smirk and a look that was way too close to fondness.)

Grif loved to sit or lay on Simmons while he was reading and bother the hell out of him to play Mario Kart which was one of the only games they could play in this godforsaken world. He wouldn’t get off until Simmons agreed, and even then sometimes it took him a while to finally get up. (Simmons was still trying to figure out if this was secretly Grif’s way of cuddling.)

His laugh was obnoxious and loud. (It was also infectious and probably could cure cancer.)

He would never cut his damn hair. It was like he perpetually kept it in between normal and way too long just to bother Simmons. And it bothered him. Same with shaving, he had perpetual stubble. And it bothered Simmons. (It bothered him so much, he couldn’t stop looking.)

He would steal alcohol from the stash on base. (And then he would bring it up to the roof at night and give half to Simmons, and Simmons would have to sit there and drunkenly think about how easy it would be to make his move.)

Grif had a tendency to get things stuck in his head. Words, phrases, songs, commercials, you name it. It was fucking annoying. Sometimes the little shit would just make up songs that went on forever and ever that were comprised only of the words Oreos and boners. It had to stop. (Simmons found himself describing it as cute in his head the other day, fuck this nonsense.)

Grif would just sit outside out of armor for no particular reason. It was a time of war, they didn’t have time for sunbathing dammit. (Sometimes if Simmons was lucky, he could stay for a while. Letting the sunshine warm his skin. He actually fell asleep next to Grif more times than he should have. Grif never mentioned it to anyone.)

He was constantly eating junk food. Snack cakes and oreos were what Grif basically lived off of. (And he always smelled like sugar and chocolate.)

He liked to write really shitty poetry just so that he could read it to Simmons when he was eating to try to make him do a spit take. (It really was very funny, he did a dramatic performance and everything.)

He wrote poetry for real, but wouldn’t let Simmons see some of it. (He definitely didn’t hope maybe it was because those poems were about him.)

He could cook like nobodys business but it took a lot of convincing since he was almost always too lazy to do it. (The damn asshole would just stand there in the kitchen and hum and lick his fingers like that was allowed.)

Grif was making money off of bets about when he and Simmons would finally kiss/just bang already/fucking get married. (But yet he couldn’t take the damn hint.)

For some unknown reason though, Dick Simmons did find Dexter Grif to be attractive. VERY attractive, in fact. No matter how many reasons he had not to.

But out of all the reasons Dick Simmons shouldn’t like Dexter Grif, the biggest one was that he was definitely in love with the bastard.


End file.
